


Chain of Command

by buckybleeds



Series: Alphabet Soup [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And he gets one but at what cost?, Daddy Kink, Extremely Dubious Consent, HYDRA Husbands, HYDRA Trash Party, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M, Touch-Starved, Under-negotiated Kink, Whooooo likes garbage?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybleeds/pseuds/buckybleeds
Summary: Steve's been lonely. Strike is there for him, even if nobody else is.(and there followed an entire dumpster full of trash)





	Chain of Command

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhh this was supposed to be like a thousand words of Brock being a mean, shitty hookup and instead it turned into. Well. This.
> 
> Come yell prompts at me on tumblr, twitter, or IG. I'm @buckybleeds everywhere.

Brock called him sweet things but only sarcastically. 

"Looking good, Sugarbear," when his mouth was full of cock. 

"You like that, Creampuff, like getting that tight little ass wrecked?"

"Angel, you were made for this," while he prepped himself and panted and Brock watched, hard in his jeans but sneering nonetheless. 

Steve had been a queer in the 40s, he knew what it sounded like when someone was calling him a faggot. Hell, he even knew what it sounded like when he was getting called a faggot by a man balls deep inside of him. The more things change the more they stay the same. 

Who gave a shit if Brock was a little mean to him? Steve didn't care. All he cared about was that when he was with Brock he didn't have to think too hard. He could let go of being Captain America and let go of being Steve Rogers and all he had to do was remember to be careful with his teeth. 

All Brock could do was beat him up a little and even then the bruises faded within minutes. Steve wasn't going to get hurt in this arrangement. Nothing had been capable of hurting him since 1945.

 

***

 

"I wanna share you."

Steve snorted. 

"As much as you ride me like one I ain't a fuckin' bicycle."

Brock rolled over in his side so he could drape one long leg over Steve's waist and clamp a hand on the back of his neck. 

"Don't be like that, Princess. You told me how you used to work the docks," Rumlow smiled nastily at him. "You're not a bike, you're a fuckin' subway."

Okay, maybe getting too close to Brock had been a mistake. 

"Yeah, now that I think about it maybe you are getting a little stale," Steve could smile nastily too. "I know I'm hard to keep up with and you ain't getting any younger."

"Smart mouth," Brock growled, pulling himself on top of Steve's prone form; he could feel the heat of his interest rutting against him, working the cleft of his ass and biting hard at his shoulders for a few minutes until Rumlow was hard again and pressing through the slick mess of his own release to sheath himself inside of Steve a third time. "That smart mouth is gonna get you in trouble someday, Princess."

"Who," Steve asked, lifting his hips a bit. 

"With me, dumbshit."

Christ, it was all he could do not to roll his eyes sometimes. Brock could be mean but he couldn't be witty and every once in a while the ache for a curled smile and a clever reply hit so sharp that it felt like he was freezing all over again. Which was pretty much the only reason he was considering this. 

"Who d'you wanna share me with, dumbshit?"

Brock's hands dug into his hips and he groaned through this next few thrusts. 

"Rollins," he gasped out, "he's the only one big enough to pin down and put you in your place."

And to Steve's surprise he was suddenly coming, wracked with shudders from head to toe at the thought of a big man with dark hair holding him down and letting him forget where he was, who he was, and when he was. 

"Jesus, Cap," Rumlow gritted out, his own orgasm wrenched out of him by the strength of Steve's body as it clenched around him. "Fuck, okay, I'll tell Jack. Christ, try to spare a guy's feelings, wouldya?"

 

***

 

Okay, maybe bringing Rollins into this had been a mistake. 

He'd watched, silently, while Brock went first. "Gotta respect the chain of command," he had said with a smirk, then perched on a chair at the end of the bed and did his best impression of a gargoyle. 

Brock put Steve on his hands and knees and turned him around to face Jack and that was more unnerving than Steve had thought it would be. He felt like he was putting on a show and had forgotten his lines. Brock fucked into him with his usual litany of backhanded pillow talk, Rollins watched, and Steve squirmed like a bug on a pin. 

"It's funny, you turning shy on us mister chorus line," Brock projected, made sure Rollins could hear him over the sound of his hips slapping against Steve's ass. "What's your plan now, Spangles?" He reached between his legs and gripped Steve's limp prick, stroking it just hard enough to hurt without doing any damage. "Can't punch Hitler with that useless thing, can you, Cap?"

"Shut up," Rollins said. His eyes were focused on Steve's wet mouth, the fall of his hair over his eyes. 

"You talk too much shit. Can't you see you gotta be nice to our boy here?" 

Steve swallowed and looked down.

"Can't you see he's sweet on you?"

"He'd be sweet on anybody who took the time to push him around a little bit, it's nothing personal."

Rollins hummed and reached out a big, wide hand that he used to tilt Steve's face back until their eyes met.

"Oh, honey, look at you," he whispered, and Steve didn't know what he meant until he felt cool air against the tear tracks on his cheeks. "You need someone to take care of you, baby boy?"

Rollins ran his thumb over Steve's lips and without making the conscious decision to do so he found that he'd pulled the digit into his mouth and was sucking at it, gently caressing it with his tongue. 

"Get hard for Brock, baby." Steve looked up at Jack with wide, shining blue eyes and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I wanna watch you come in his cock before I give you mine," Rollins answered the unspoken question with a smile. "I want you nice and sensitive and relaxed for me."

Steve began to reach back to take himself in hand when Rollins' gentle hold on his mouth locked into a firm grip and he shook Steve's head abruptly. 

"You don't need to touch it, baby. You're gonna do as your told because I told you to, no arguments," and he could feel the vibration of Steve's moan on his fingertips and Rumlow's thrusts became more erratic for a moment. 

"Jesus fuckin _Christ_ , could you warn a guy?" He paused to shudder and keep himself from shooting off early. "I think he liked that, Jackie. Clamped down so hard he nearly took my dick off." 

He tentatively resumed his movement, making shallow thrusts into the blonde. 

Between them Steve whimpered and Jack used his grip to shake his head again. 

"Hush, baby, grownups are talking," and to everyone's surprise Steve came immediately and copiously, whining around Jack's thumb the whole time. 

"Oh fuck, _fuck_ , god, Jackie, marry me," Brock was bucking harder into Steve, caught in his own orgasm, but leaned forward in invitation and Rollins met him in an open-mouthed kiss while Steve shuddered with aftershocks beneath them. 

After a moment Rollins gently pushed Brock back until he had pulled out of Steve and then he carefully withdrew his hand from Steve's mouth.

Steve was a wreck. His lips quivered with every shaky breath he took. He was painted pink from the back of his neck to the sweet dimples at his hips. His thighs were trembling and Brock's cum was beginning to leak down his leg. 

Jack knelt behind him and used one large finger to swipe up the dripping fluid and push it back into Steve's winking hole. 

"That was a gift, honey. I expect you to treat it with respect." 

Steve choked on what might have been a sob and nodded, keeping his eyes low. Brock moaned softly from where he leaned against the headboard and his spent cock gave an interested twitch. 

"Say thank you, baby."

Steve looked up at Brock, his eyes huge and shining. His quick pink tongue darted out to swipe at his bottom lip. 

"Thank you," he said, quietly, his voice a thousand breathy miles away from the commanding tone he used in the field. 

Rollins swatted gently at Steve's scientifically perfect ass and watched as he clenched his hole to keep from leaking. 

"Be more specific."

A frown settled briefly on Steve's brow. Jack's hand soothed up his side and rubbed encouragingly at his shoulder. 

Then he smiled beatifically.

"Thank you for coming inside me, Daddy."

 

***

 

Brock was going to marry Rollins. It would be a summer ceremony, someplace outdoors, and he would wear a veil and change his name to Mrs. Brock Rollins and he'd come home from work at the Triskelion and cook dinner for his man and then they'd fuck Captain America into the goddamned mattress and he'd thank him for filling his slutty holes, Daddy, and that was why Brock was going to be the best little wife anyone had ever seen, because his husband made miracles happen.

Three months he'd been dealing with Rodgers' sniping and sarcasm and backtalk and in half an hour Rollins had the stuck-up fag crying to suck on his fingers and getting hard on command. 

"Jackie if you want him you better get at him because if you don't I'm taking another turn."

"Bite your tongue, Brock. You're going to stay right there and be quiet and I'm going to take care of our sweet baby boy because you're a brute and you don't deserve him."

Steve was still shaking on his hands and knees. His big blue eyes bounced between the older men. 

Jack stroked his hair back from his face and gently kissed his forehead. 

 Steve Rogers, Captain Goddamned America, burst into tears. 

"Shhh, hush baby, it's okay," Jack cooed, "you're okay honey, c'mere and we're just gonna talk for a minute." He was still dressed but kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed facing Brock. "C'mere, baby, I've got you," he said and Steve crawled to him and let Jack arrange his heavy golden body until he was seated in Jack's lap, laying back against his chest with his shoulder hooked under Jack's chin. 

"Stevie, can you talk right now sweetheart?"

Steve nodded and swallowed. 

"Yeah. I can." He shook his head a little.  "Can talk. If you wanna."

"But you don't really feel like talking, do you? Don't feel like you've got the words?"

Steve sagged in relief and nodded. Jack wrapped him tighter in his big arms and nuzzled against his cheek before dropping a soft little kiss on his temple. 

"That's okay, baby. We'll try to make it so you don't have to use so many words. Brock's gonna get you some water and I'm just gonna snuggle you for a bit." 

He glared at Brock until the other man clambered out of bed and stumbled back in a moment later with a cool bottle of water, rubbing a damp cloth over his crotch. Jack took the bottle from him and opened it before raising it to Steve's lips. Steve lifted a hand to take it and Jack swatted it away.

"Stevie, Brock's your daddy, am I your daddy too?"

Steve's face flushed fuchsia but he nodded. 

"Then let your daddy take care of his baby boy."

The blush, impossibly, deepened as he allowed Jack to hold the bottle and took a few sips. 

"Good job, sweetie," Jack set the bottle down and soothed his hands over Steve's chest. "Stevie, can you remember the last time someone touched you nice like this?"

Steve shook his head. 

Brock was going to have to figure out some way to have Jack's babies because by using just his fucking thumb he'd figured out exactly how touch-starved Captain Goddamned America was and reduced him to a crying, shivering mess who was nonetheless sporting a hard-on the size of the statue of liberty. Brock groaned and rubbed the heel of his hand hard over his dick. These nonexistent super soldier refractory periods were going to be the death of him. 

"And you like getting touched like this, soft and gentle?"

Steve nodded frantically. 

"But you also like it when Brock gets a little rough with you, huh? Like to feel it when you're getting fucked, sweet boy?"

He bit that lush pink lip and nodded again. 

"And you really like it when I tell you what to do, don't you honey?" Steve sucked in a shaky breath and his hard cock jerked. "You like it when I treat you like a silly little boy who needs to do as he's told for daddy, huh?"

Jack's hands had been roving over Steve's perfect body but he hadn't come close to his cock, which was now drooling precum untouched.

"What about when Brock talks mean to you, calls you Princess and says your prick is worthless?"

Steve's ridiculous shoulders drooped and his chin dropped, somehow managing to make six feet and three inches of all-American beef look small. 

"I don't like it," he said in a tiny voice and covered his face with his hands. 

Lots of babies. Brock was going to give Jack a dozen little Hydra babies because Jack had made Captain America cry and try to cover his face to spare Brock's feelings because he had to admit he didn't like getting called a useless cunt. Was it his birthday? Christmas? This was the best day. 

"You're doing so good, baby, such a sweet boy. It's okay if you don't like something, honey. I'm glad you trusted us enough to tell us." He kissed Steve's cheek and ruffled his hair. "I think we're done talking now, baby. Why don't you go say thank you to daddy while I get ready and show you what good boys are good for?"

Steve sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He crawled between Brock's legs and knelt over him uncertain, looking shy and flushed and fresh. Behind him Jack was stripping off his black clothes to reveal his pale, hard body and a true monster of a cock. 

 

 

"Thank you, daddy," Steve whispered. He didn't look in Brock's eyes, just nervously chewed the corner of his mouth. 

"No problem, Champ," Brock said with an easy smile. He pulled Steve toward him and gently opened that pink mouth with his tongue, kissing him sweet like he'd never bothered to before. Brock didn't miss the tiny hitch in Steve's breathing or the strangled whine that worked its way out of his chest. He kissed him sweet and hard until Steve's face was red with stubble burns and Jack was tugging him away by his hips. 

They arranged his body to their liking and he ended up on his knees and elbows between them, Brock's slowly hardening prick in his mouth and Jack's huge frame looming over him.

Jack rubbed a thumb against his tight hole and smiled.

"All that serious talk and he didn't let a drop leak. You like being filled up, baby? Want me to get you a nice fat plug so you can walk around full of daddy's cum all day?"

Brock's skull thunked back against the headboard as Steve did something with his mouth. 

"Christ, yeah, he likes that, I'd say. _Fuck_ ,  that, _Jesus,_ okay don't worry champ we ain't gonna leave you empty, Jackie knows what you need."

Jack did know. He was slowly working Steve open on his fingers, slicking him up and spreading him out. Brock grinned up at him and licked his lips as he added a third finger and a ripple traveled through the muscles of Steve's back. 

Because that was one of the challenges to having a hundred little Hydra babies - Brock just wasn't built to take Jack.

Granted, hardly anyone could bottom for Jack; the man had a prick like a wine bottle. 

But Steve Rogers wasn't just anyone.

He whimpered around Brock in his mouth as Jack slid a fourth thick finger into his grasping hole. Rogers' eyes went wide and he looked up from Brock's crotch with his brow wrinkled in concern. 

Rumlow cupped Steve's face in his hands, stroking his cheekbones softly with his thumbs and tickling behind his ears with gentle fingers.

"You're doing such a good job, tiger," and just like that some of the worry went away, his gaze turning glassy at the slightest praise. "You don't even know how happy you're gonna make your daddy, sweetheart."

Steve squirmed as Jack twisted his hand and tented his fingers open. He looked loose and obscene, his wet red inside visible when Jack pulled his hand back and left the ring of muscle slack in his wake.

The big man wiped his hand clean on Rumlow's abandoned cloth before pouring a pool of lube into his palm and slicking it over himself. Shining and slippery he slid the weight of his member between Steve's cheeks, letting him get his first feel of what was coming.

Steve went tense all over and the noise he made sounded more like a word than a whimper. Brock tightened his fingers around the back of Steve's skull and Jack locked a hand on his hip.

"Keep being good for us, honey. This isn't something for you to worry about. Daddy wouldn't do it if he didn't think you could take it," Jack said, his free hand went to the base of his shaft; he couldn't close his fingers around it. He hefted it in his hand and angled the head to nudge against Steve's twitching asshole, which was trying to tighten up and prevent the intrusion.

Brock could feel Steve trying to shake his head, saw the taut-strung line of his shoulders that let him know the supersoldier was about three seconds away from remembering he could turn the two men in bed with him into a thin red paste if he chose to.

"Shhh, sugar," Brock whispered, "Daddy's got you."

"-o," Steve said through the obstruction in his mouth.

"Be good, honey," Brock said, "Be sweet for your daddy."

Jack pressed forward and Steve _squealed_ , the tension in his limbs and spine locking him in place. It only took three words to settle him.

"Oh, _baby boy_ ," Jack moaned and the tinderbox tightness in Steve's back shifted to shaking; the hands that had been clenched into fists starfished open and grasped at the sheets, trying to ground himself. Brock felt his dick get wetter as Steve's mouth flooded with spit in a sympathetic reaction to his eyes flooding with tears. He hadn't even been trying to get himself off but he added to the mess as he shot his load into Steve's choking throat. Brock pulled the head out of his lap to get a better look at what they'd done to Captain Goddamned America.

Jack kept up his slow, slide into Rogers' ass and Rogers' face was a _vision_. The lovely flush he'd sported earlier had gone all cherries and cream - pale with pain and blotchily red with exertion. His long eyelashes were spiked together with tears and his wet, pretty, pink mouth was red and puffy from use, trailing drool and jizz as he tried to comprehend what was happening at the other end of him. Those big blue eyes stared sightlessly and Brock smeared the mess from Steve's mouth over the rest of his face with the flat of his hand.

"Please," Steve whined.

"Please what, honey," Rollins asked, his voice husky with want. He had both of Rogers' hips in his hands now and was still pushing deeper into him.

"Hurts, please, _it hurts_ -"

"Shhh, shhh, my good boy, baby boy, you're almost there," and he was right; Rollins was two inches away from having his balls pressed flush against Steve.

"I don't want - _please_ ," he was actually wailing. Rumlow was going to go insane. His dick gave a tired twitch and it was all he could do to keep himself from cackling in delighted, sadistic glee.

"I've got you, honey, shhh, hey," Rollins glared at Rumlow over Steve's back and petted along his trembling flanks. "Baby, you did it, that's all there is, you did it honey."

Steve cried bonelessly into the mattress, only kept in place by Jack's hands on his hips. Jack let him break down, for a few minutes. He whispered nice, meaningless things, called him a good boy. Eventually the racking sobs tapered into soft little hiccups and gasps.

Then he started to move.

He went slow at first, rocking more than thrusting, pulling out by increments of inches.

"Please," Steve moaned, "please, no, it's too much."

Rollins laid a sharp smack on his ass.

"Pay attention, honey. Really pay attention for me, can you do that?"

The keening Steve started could be liberally interpreted as an affirmative.

"Daddy knows what's good for you. You're not really hurting, baby, you're just scared. Take a big, deep breath, sweetheart."

The breath he took was stuttered roughly into his lungs but it stopped that whine.

"Good. Now, relax around me. Don't think about it, don't think about anything, that's not your job."

His breath evened out and his tearing grip on the bedsheets loosened a hair.

"There's my angel, my good boy. You feel so good on me, baby, so tight and warm," he leaned over Steve and moved one of his hands to Steve's shoulder, digging his thumb into the tense, jumping muscle there. Rumlow could see some of the tension bleed out of the rest of Steve's back.

"You don't have to think about anything, honey. Just trust your daddy to take care of you, let me make you feel good like the dumb little hole you are."

_That_ moan was unquestionably affirmative. Rumlow couldn't wipe the grin off his face now. Captain Goddamned America was a thousand times more fucked up than Brock ever could have imagined.

Rollins still rode him carefully to start, slow little thrusts that seemed unfairly controlled for a guy who probably only got his dick wet every time the Asset was out of storage. He massaged Steve's back with his thumbs and rolled his hips until Rogers started to show some signs of life and got his limbs back under voluntary control.

Once Steve was capable of holding himself upright Rollins reached down to stroke behind his balls before digging his fingers in hard, squeezing Rogers' prostate between his hard hand and the enormous shaft inside him; Steve screamed as his erection came thundering back to life and then it was off to the races.

It appeared that Rogers would let you shove a cricket bat up his ass as long as you paid attention to that sweet spot and called him a stupid cumdumpster in the process. He didn't notice the trickles of blood running down his thighs or the visible bulge in his abdomen when Jack thrust in hard; all he cared about was those fingers kneading at his prostate and milking an endless stream of clear fluid out of his cock and an ongoing moan out of his mouth.

Rollins finally let go of his control and just started the final charge toward the end, humping viciously into Rogers until he pulled his hand off Steve's hip and placed it low on his abdomen where he could rut against his own hand through Rogers' body. When he felt Steve's abs and guts squeezed between his hand and his cock Rollins was done - he lasted two more thrusts before he was biting down on Steve's shoulder and growling his way through his orgasm.

Almost as an afterthought he lifted his hand off of Steve's stomach to wrap it around his drooling, purple cock. Jack tugged at him roughly, still digging the fingers of his other hand into the vulnerable skin of Steve's perineum and that was all it took before Rogers was going off like a firework, coming so hard that a few milky droplets landed on his own face.

It had to be Christmas. Any day this magical had to be fucking _Christmas_ , Brock thought as Jack pulled out of Rogers in a rush of blood and cum then pulled both of them up to the head of the bed to snuggle with Brock and fall into a warm, contented sleep.

 

***

 

Steve didn't turn on the lights in his apartment. He didn't put on a record. He just sat in his armchair with his hands on his knees.

_What the fuck was that, Rogers?_

It used to be that the voice in his head sometimes sounded like Peggy, sometimes sounded like his ma. These days it only ever sounded like Bucky.

_What the fuck was that?_ I dunno. 

_Did you wanna get railed by Rollins while Rumlow laughed at you?_ I dunno.

_Did you wanna get fucked so hard it felt like you'd been gutshot_? 

No. No, he hadn't wanted that, he'd tried to say so. They hadn't heard.

_No, they heard just fine. They didn't listen._

Steve wasn't going to think about that.

It was supposed to be a joke, he thought. Calling Rumlow daddy was supposed to get him hot under the collar and he'd go all red and they'd tussle and go another round to get Rollins into the mix. That's how he'd pictured it in his head, that's what he'd planned on.

_Don't think you had much of a plan there, pal. 'Sides, that's not when you started to lose control of that particular situation._

Yeah.

_It was when he was nice to you. That's all it took. Said you were sweet and you turned into a pussycat._

That was . . . well, concerning to say the least. But was it really that bad?

_They had to send you home with a sanitary pad tucked in your shorts, doll. I'd say that's pretty bad_.

Okay, maybe it was bad. 

But he'd liked it.

_If you're gonna let yourself get split in half because some fella called you baby maybe it's time to talk to somebody, Stevie._

Maybe it was. But just because he needed to talk to somebody didn't mean there was anybody to talk to.

He'd needed Bucky for his whole life. Needing him didn't bring him back.

Why should this be any different?

 

***

 

"I saw your girlfriend today, cupcake."

The Asset didn't respond. It had only been out of cryo a few hours and was fresh from a wipe. At this point it was all programming. Stimulus, response. Nothing extra until they gave it mission parameters.

"He's real lonely, these days. Doesn't know what to do with himself, he's getting in deep with all sorts of terrible people."

The Asset's skin was still cold to the touch. Its jaw dropped open when Brock laid a hand along the side of its face.

Stimulus, response.

"Maybe he doesn't have to be lonely too much longer. Maybe some of his new friends are gonna take real good care of him. Maybe he'll come play with you soon."

He was crooning nonsense, just moving his mouth around mean sounds while he kept his attention on the Asset, watching its dull eyes and noting its automatic motions.

"Leave that poor thing alone, Brock," Rollins said, stepping up to the gear locker.

And there it was, the Asset's eye flicked minutely toward Rollins before dropping back into its standard thousand yard stare.

Blink and you'd miss it, a flinch as loud as a scream in a tool this tightly controlled.

Stimulus, response.

He was sure of it. Today was fucking _Christmas_.

**Author's Note:**

> Feed me comments, they sustain me and help me grow.


End file.
